Blogger, realist, clarifier, if there is such a term. Truth teller, who's not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Hellacious, renegade violist and "computer whisperer"; was once accused of practicing the Dark Arts with systems.
I'm tougher than most and survived things that would have killed most women. I still love life. I was homeless, now I'm not. Still in the 'hood, though. Nebraska Avenue, 33605. The stories are priceless and endless.

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Tuesday, July 19, 2011

MORE RECIPES, MORE NONSENSE FROM NEBRASKA AVENUE VIA BUS WORLD

Whilst rehashing the recipes from my previous post, I picked up a new recipe, or rather a time-saver for those busy, homeless folks who are on the go. Between washing clothes with my posse yesterday, (yes, we really do call ourselves the "posse") and reminiscing about our favorite cartoons from our misbegotten childhoods, came this gem:

1 Package Ramen noodles, any flavor Open package, remove noodles Pass briskly under hot water approximately 3 to 4 times Open little package of chicken- or pork- or beef- or shrimp-flavored sodium Sprinkle on damp, sticky, hot noodles Eat like a cracker

Yum! Now you're ready to take on Bus World.

I have saved Bus World for now. I know you're all probably thinking, "Golly gee, she's really getting to the best stuff!" No, I'm not. I have held off on Bus World, because frankly, words fail me. I have no idea how to even begin to describe the rich and varied experiences of Bus World. I've mentioned that Nebraska Avenue from Downtown Tampa north to about Bearss Avenue is notorious. It is a truly dangerous place to be or to live. Shootings are common, drug deals, home invasions, police chases and fires are also common. There are about seventy-five residents in both the Happy Acres houses. The Tampa Police and Fire departments are here at least four times a week and this is no exaggeration.

The Bus is... highly entertaining. At least I think so. But then I am easily amused. We all ride the Bus up and down Nebraska Avenue, off to our various Doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, drug dealing and other assorted mayhem. Of course, this is typified by the passengers, who defy description. Last week, J and I were just about to board the Bus to return home from our latest visit to Dr. (fill in the blank) for my latest medical test (choose one of the following: EMG, MRI, Doppler, Nuclear Stress Test, eye exam, blah-blah.) Feeling a little out of it, and unable to see regardless, I hear "hey, there's people getting off the bus!" uttered by this... being. Before I could debate his interpretation of the word "people" he barged his way past us. This is what I "observed" but maybe it was just my meds kicking in: a real-life Peter Griffin, only with a hot-buttered raccoon pelt on his head. He is face was a bulldog countenance with scrunched up eyes, as if he had just let a huge fart. It must have smelled as if he had a heaping helping of dead mice for lunch. He(?) wore tight, tight red shorty-short pants, and a black wife-beater, with cheap-ass (are there any other kind?) day-glo pink crocs. J must have had a horrified look on his face. I was busy trying to remember if I had taken my Ativan that morning, or if my visual disturbances were really that bad. J looked at the Bus driver and she said "don't you do that to me, sir!" Mirth and merriment ensued. I took a second look at Mr. Red Shorty-shorts, the person who had and was treated to his back side, which consisted of two red, red boxing mitts minus the thumbs. The mitts were struggling against one another; kind of a hug-fest, like the worst boxing match ever. Legs and arms like pipe-stems, giant barrel-like middle and pinhead to boot. Truly awe-inspiring. Ten minutes later, the Bus driver was still laughing.

Anyway, I heard a joke, or at least I think it was a joke. What is the trifecta of Homelessness? Give up? These three establishments on the same block. Amscot, American Pawn and Family Dollar. Extra points for a Bail Bondsman. Sharpie's Bond, While U Wait. Oh, also any Rent To Own Car lot. Nebraska Avenue sports all this and more. If you think I'm making this shit up, go google "God Center, Dancers Wanted" and get back to me with the address. Heh.

A little aside; I am on full Disability as of tomorrow. If I said this somewhere else in this blog, I apologize. I have no short-term memory. Apparently, the Federal Government thinks I'm sicker than I really thought I was. Heh? So, I'll be operating from my fabulous room at the Happy Acres resort come this weekend. Pictures will be posted soon, along with other extra goodies. I'll also be able to post more. I hate having to save up all my muses for the library computers.

Another personal aside. For those of you who knew I got pissed off and cut off my hair (a long, boring story) and cut it really, really short, I have passed the burn victim, Dorothy Hamel and Annie Lennox stage and am now in the Justin Bieber stage. Thank god it grows quick.

NEXT POST: MEDICAL FUN AND MORE BUS WORLD. Anyway, peace to all of you. Love and joy to you all and your families.

Itinerant violist and computer trouble-shooter for more years than I care to admit. While no longer homeless, still crazy, but with Labels *sigh* a bus-riding Asperger, bipolar-ridden, PD or non-PD, carbon life-form, providing fodder for Medical community. Not even kidding. Still ridiculous.

Acquiring a much richer and fuller experience and finding deeper meaning in day to day life, than I ever learned in a classroom, concert hall, or computer center. I will never believe that things just occur randomly, just monumentally disordered.

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Eventually everything happens on Nebraska Avenue. The pimps have been here, both the real and the political. The athletes and the artists. It's a life, a state of mind and it's home, Nebraska Avenue, 33605, 33602 and 33604.

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